PORTAL to ANOTHER DIMENSION: by Julianna Rowe

PORTAL to Another Dimension: 

I could feel and see everything that was happening to me through the portal. It was a tiny yet vast canyon in another dimension. Another time?  Which was I in?  I wondered/pondered as I bent over to pick up something that resembled a telescope. It appeared to be an antique brass cylinder like in the old pirate movies.

“Awr’ land ahoy!”  The rugged filthy yet virile bearded man said as he peered thru the long thin brass object appearing to magnify his destination. 

Was I magnifying through imagination my own destination?  I reluctantly picked up the instrument, put it to my eye and scanned the canyon through the nearly invisible portal in my bedroom wall.  I saw land, mountains, craters, and an ocean. All in miniature scale.  As I scanned this new world through the tiny round amplifying lens I caught a glimpse of three tiny figures.  I turned the cylinder to heighten the magnification and clearly saw a woman.  And walking with her as though lost were two animals. One oddly appeared to be a living breathing large shaggy blue stuffed animal.  I stopped all mental and physical movement afraid to look away or remove myself from the portal for fear of losing it forever. Yet was I dreaming? I continued although with subjective confusion to follow the odd threesome as though I were their portal police. Who were they? Where were they?  Did they need help? And then, suddenly and with a force unknown to me I was pulled through the small opening to the other side in a millisecond. Faster than an airbag and with the velocity of a jet engine. I suspect birth is easier although looking back it did leave me breathless as well as weightless. The weightless part was the only factor I enjoyed. When I reached the end of the portal there was a swoosh as I entered a new world through a second opening and I was free flying. I wondered should I put my arms out like Superman? Actually I did nothing. No thoughts or emotions were present. I simply was.

 

I had asked for it.  Had done what I always do.  Gotten myself in too deep trying to help others.  It has always been my downfall not to mention the portion of my brain still maintaining rationality wondered if I would or could ever get back. What or who would call me back with the intent I do others. That to me would be the only way of returning through the porthole to the safety of my earthly bedroom. Much less my earthly life.

Regardless, there I was actually flying or rather soaring. It brought back a memory of the boy flying on his shaggy dog in “The Never Ending Story.” Maybe that is who the blue dog was I saw with the woman through the pirate’s nautical spyglass. And then another memory came into view.

I was a small child riding in a car at a time when seatbelts were not required. I would scoot up and rest my head on the back of my father’s driver’s seat near his big safe shoulder usually donned in a soft plaid flannel shirt  and watch the road dreaming of someday driving like he did. On occasion there would be a mountain ahead.  (In reality a child’s mind pictures a small hill to be a mountain.)  I would watch intently as my father drove us up, straight up, where the road met the sky, nothing beyond. The end.  I was sure we would fall off the edge of the road and go down, down, down to our deaths. And then another memory came toward me like a swirling column of air.  Inside the whirlwind was an ocean. I don’t like water; in fact I am very frightened of it.   And then as before I saw my father driving us near the water’s edge purposefully driving off the road and hitting the gravel  to tantalize me, making me think we might drive into the water and die. Actually it was torturing. Why would he do that? I could feel where the fear began in my life as I soared above it able to read the visual beneath me. What my father did wasn’t a good thing. I suspect he will have a portal of his own to deal with someday.

And then…. I descended slowly onto real land. Everything was blurry ahead and all around me. I had nowhere to go so I took a leap of faith and stepped forward only to see clearly a long very tall glass wall I was unable to penetrate. And then I saw her on the other side. I was on the inside of a building and she was on the outside. A door appeared but it would not open.  I could not get out and she could not get in. What would happen if I could let her in?  She was me standing there with her stuffed shaggy blue dog and another small animal I didn’t recognize.  There was no way out.  On earth I would have had FEAR.  Wikipedia says: Fear is a feeling induced by perceived danger or threat that occurs in certain types of organisms, which causes a change in metabolic and organ functions and ultimately a change in behavior, such as fleeing, hiding, or freezing from perceived traumatic events. But here through the portal I had no fear.  I saw prisons, offices full of strange people with all sorts of worriment. I passed over large bodies of water confident in myself to be safe. Mountain roads dropping thousands of feet should one get too close to the edge. People shouting at one another from their vehicles. People dying. People angry with me.  Yet I withstood every insecurity and mental probability of my own fear of confrontations, of dying a water death, falling off a mountain road, and I passed the tests.  The Blue Shaggy dog probably helped some.  Interesting my dream allowed me the security of a living stuffed animal.

I had taken myself to this place to learn how to escape my earthly situation and bring myself back to reality to face life once again.  The Universe took me to places I needed to re-experience so as to be able to live in peace on earth without continued fear.  

There are other portals…..good ones and bad ones.  Given enough mental off balance they will open up and swallow you like the whale swallowed up Jonah. They will steal your life.  Balance yourself to avoid  portals of unearthly dimensions.  It’s all around you. Blurry until you remove the blinders and see the truth.  Just like the glass wall in my portal.  The woman on the other side was me of course.  Now she is free.  Free indeed.

Who Returns Toilet Paper?

Who returns toilet paper and WHY?  No really I saw it with my own eyes.  At Menard's USA. 
Maybe someone was allergic to Charmin?
Maybe someone's "bum" broke out in a rash?
Maybe Charmin plugged up their septic tank?
Maybe they needed money for food?
Maybe it was dirty?
Husband picked up the WRONG brand?
I tell you I saw it!  And I think the man whose wife sent him back there was pretty embarrassed. Or maybe not.

I was standing next to a young man in the return line when...I whispered, "I have never seen anyone return toilet paper!"
He said, "I was thinking the same thing."  Then we giggled like children in church. 
I resized this photo to protect the identity of this person.  I do not make it a habit of making fun of others.  But this was unusual.  Right? I tell  you I saw it with  my own eyes.... Not really one of the world's seven wonders or even close I know I know. 
Be Safe, Be Well, Be Happy.....

Merry Christmas from the Past by Diane Ogden

Merry Christmas from the Past by Diane Ogden

Black and White and check out that tinsel.  My brother and I wanted to "THROW" it onto the special green tree personally cut by father...but let me tell you that was not any where near acceptable. Each tiny strand of glistening silver had to be expertly hung only on the farthest extended branches as to lay properly with no kinks whatsoever.  Wouldn't life be grand without any kinks?   Believe me we had the kinks in our family..... In this black and white sit my brother and I, Nana and Grandad.  They had ample amounts of money and we did  not. As you can see by the cheap perms am displaying.  Dad would cut down a tree from the REAL WOODS out back of our house, then saw the base, drill holes in the trunk of the tree and insert extra branches where necessary for fullness.  Ever heard of that now days? Nope!  Now its off to the corner for the perfect-est tree which costs minimum of $75 plus.  Mother would pop the popcorn and bring in the huge bowl of little red berries to be strung on heavy string for the tree.  My brother and I got to use a needle and thread for this treat we were not always happy about.  We favored cutting out colored paper strips and gluing the circles one end to the other, inserting each strip into the next making a long paper chain of many colores for more tree foo foo.  Ooh how could I forget the ham metal squigglies.  In the olden days canned Ham came with a "key" to open it.  You hooked the key onto the tiny aluminum tab and twisted backwards all the way around the can.  If you miscalculated your screw and slipped, well, mis-perfection wasn't so cool in our household.  A n y w a y...after the can is opened you hold the key and pull down the section you wound out to create a long spiral shiny ornament!  They were rather sharp so we had to be very careful. After all it was aluminum. Mother made homemade gingerbread men. We tied ribbons thru a hole she made with a terrifying ice pic, and hung the little people on the tree.  Candy canes present also.  There was always a bowl of "ribbon candy" sitting on the coffee table.  And some of the tiny sugar candies, peppermints, green mints, yellow ones.  They would crunch quickly between your teeth because they were so little.  Mother would bake home-made yeast breads filled with cinnamon and all sorts of other fancy cookies.  Dad would go out back of the house on Christmas Eve and change into his Santa suit in the chicken coup, then we would suddenly hear bells and know Santa was outside.  He would come to the door and Mother would let him in so he could sit in the big chair and talk to us. We would tell him what we wanted for Christmas and he would do the Ho-Ho-Ho then he would leave, but only after asking us to leave him some cookies and milk and his reindeer some carrots. My God we really bought it!!  To this day I swear I saw him ride out of site in his sleigh with eight tiny reindeer far into the night with a full moon for me to view him ahead of the huge night clouds far above the rooftops.  Indeed Christmas was always a fun time with good memories for me.  Even though the family had and has "kinks."

I Bought a Costanza Rota from Italy!

      Isn't she a beauty? I danced around the purse rack like a woman flirting for some man's attention. My God you'd of thought I was a kid again.  I picked it up, put it back, picked it up, put it back.  Sort of like when your dating a guy who seems so wonderful you melt, then he sticks red flags up your nose and you run away. Then he pulls you back in and so on.  Yup that is the game I was playing at he Marshall's Store at GreenWay Station yesterday.  The price tag was singing a scary song to my brain that this time was truly attached to my pocketbook. No denial! The tag price was $495.00.  My price was $125.00.  That meant I saved $370.00!  Who could say no to that deal? Not me.  It was my new saddle and I could smell her leather five feet away. You see, the woman I am is a lot of shiny mixed with a lot of Western.  I never know whether to buy the full Buffalo rug or the crystal chandelier so I do both.  I am a mish mash of Shabby Chic and a has been wannabe barrel racer at heart. 
       I had no intention of purchasing a new purse.  I have several. A red one, a mint green leather, a peach leather, a fur one that needs to be groomed before I leave the house, a black, a plain tan, a multi black red white and grey beauty, A Coach, and more.  But this one  called  me home to Texas.  It smelled like my Granddaddy's saddle and it looked like it too.  I may have been imagining some of that part, but it did have my name all over it.  Not to mention Pink is my favorite color.  I bought a coat the same color mauve/pink as on that over the shoulder saddle.  It's darn near as heavy as a saddle.  I almost took it to bed with me for safe keeping but there wasn't room.

       Going to a wedding reception soon.  My Costanza leather bag does not match the long black cape with mink tails I had planned on wearing. Yes I bought the mink thing it  before people started throwing cat-sup on other human beings who wore animal fur.  If it helps, my new mauve/pink coat has a special label saying it does not use duck feathers!! We use no duck feathers in the making of this coat.  We use Perel. Whatever that is.

       I just realized I was flirting with a dead cow on that purse rack!! And now I am feeling bad.  So far I have discussed buying a Buffalo Rug,  as well as I feel like I murdered the cow myself for that purse, and I have six mink tails hanging off my body, and I am bragging about my coat being duck feather free.  OMG!  Obviously I am not racist.  Nor am I  vegan.  These days everyone seems to have to have a label anymore. Evidently I don't know if I am a foot or on horseback!

        I prefer simpler.......Me, I like sparkly things and the word _____! 

"Stuff," I Reside in a Storage Bin of "STUFF"

The definition of "STUFF" is that there are a lot of definitions of "STUFF."  I have been know to call it my college word when being fictitious when I cannot remember or come up with the appropriate word I need.
The Definition per Webster: 
     Matter, material, articles, or activities of a specified or indeterminate kind that are being referred to, indicated, or implied. 
     Worthless or foolish ideas, speech, or writing; rubbish.
Such as:
     He stuffed himself with turkey and dressing.
     He is a stuffy person.
     A pickup truck picked up the stuff.
     And in Britain it is a vulgar term such as our F word.  Stuffed/ F-ed.

In my apartment the definition would read:  She has so much "STUFF" she jokes she lives in a storage bin.
     Yesterday I took on the crazy job of cleaning my storage bin to downsize. What a "Stuffing" joke as they say in Britain. I had no idea the severity of my decision.  I was all organized. Had my diet coke (I know I know!) My little dog and her bed. The appropriate keys to engage entry to the dark hallway of what I fear most besides water.....giving my "STUFF" away. 
     My friend came over the other day and walked through my apartment.....stood at the other end and said, "You got too much shit in here!"
     I said, "What?"
     She said, "That antique wardrobe has to go. That table has to go. That oak plant stand has to go.  That table behind your dining room table in the corner has to go. That french Provincial dresser along that wall has to go. And maybe we can re-do that chair so it can stay. 
     You see I bought a new sofa because I had two loveseats and when my significant other snores, gasps, chokes, and sputters, half the night I cannot sleep.And neither of us can use earplugs because we have anxiety issues from long disturbing lives making us think there will be a fire or earthquake or a plane might fall on the building and we would miss it!  We do not have three bedrooms so the choice was sleeping on a love seat which I tried many times or buying a new sofa.  Following me?
     The living area isnt very large so friend was trying to help me decide what and where to put what and where.  When she left I was even more confused. Hence...clean out the bin in case I need to STUFF more STUFF in it.  And so I did. I took everything out. Filled my car with antique lamp, antique bird cage, Queen size Serta blowup mattress, clothes, boots, Halloween light up pumpkins, and a brand new cot for the granddaughter to sleep on when she comes to visit, minus its end piece which is under the bed because we are too dang old to stretch it to snap on. Now I have to run that back over to the Hospice Store as I forgot it under the bed.  Jeez.  Back to my point.  There are six bins, one very large bin full of Christmas decorations.  I cant bear to give them away.  But do know there is no room for a Christmas Tree. Nope. Will put one on the porch outside is best we got. So why keep them?  Because. They are from a huge Victorian White Flocked Christmas tree all my children grew up with 40 years ago. Gold and white birds, porcelain figurines, personalized ornaments, pink pearl garlands, roses, pink poinsettia's, and on and on. There are some things I could part with but I would still have five bins STUFFED full. Give them to the kids?  Doubt any of the five want them. Times change.
     This is my office:  I cant believe I am sharing this.  I am not a hoarder but my significant other moved in and I had to get creative regarding space for another person when there was no space for another person. Maybe that was a hidden clue. LOL.

 This is a view from the entrance door. Notice the two lamps on the floor I couldn't bare or is it bear to donate.  The lamp under the clock was the first item I purchased after getting a job after years of being home with the babies.. It cost me $75.00 in 1975.  The top globe is broken so I STUFFED a candle where the bulb goes.  The ottoman is where I feed my cats so the dog cant eat their food as she has pancreatitis and cat food isn't good for her. She isn't able to jump up there.

This is the view to the right of my desk. Family photos and books dear to me.  And a large cat scratching post. 

 This sits directly in front of me.  Antique HOTEL KEY HOLDER.  I have stuffed all sort of wonderful trinkets, miniature books, old buttons in babyfood jars, jewelry in jars, and my sons portable cassette player that is 12 years old at least.  Beneath that is the printer and books. On the side is the Kitty Litter.  I am graced to have it in my office. The half moon picture on top is from the home I owned in 1996.  Cant seem to part with it.  Yes I know this looks like a STUFFED room. Because it is.  Notice the names under the cubbies of the Hotel holder. You know dang good and well when I die my children will come in with garbage bags and scoop it all up and out. 

This is behind me. It is a lovely curio given to me by a Hospice patient when I was volunteering. It matches my desk and reminds me to be thankful.  The white scarf belonged to my Grandfather. Inside are all sort of neat things.  A dozen dried roses my son surprised me with one mothers day 8 or 9 years ago. An antique clutch purse, a painted Santa on a gourd. Two porcelain dolls, one from my 45 year old son years ago, and the other from my 38 year old son years ago. An Angel wind up music box from my daughter one mothers day. An antique "Ginny Doll" that was mine. I learned to sew with it at age 10 and up. A pillow I made for my daughter when she was little. I used old jewelry. Next to it a photo of my deceased dog "Daisy."

The Blue Morph Butterfly in the left corner is from a special mentor friend in Oklahoma. The Blue Morph is a  healing symbol from when her husband passed from cancer years ago. The Ginny Doll is behind it. 

The dolls from my sons. The antique purse, the 3 little stuffed dolls and a homemade Christmas card from my son in prison.....

1. 
   The handmade velvet pillow, My daughter and my picture is in the heart locket with the cross between us. The dozen dried roses from my son who surprised me on Mother's day 8 years ago.  Photos of my Foster Daughters and a music box tea set.
2. 
   
3. So what's my point?  I dont really know.  I was sharing with my own blog today whether anyone reads it or not.  I had an idea to take photos of all the belongings that are dear to me and make a "Coffee Table Photo Album" of them.  I could go look at them whenever I wanted to.  BUT  I wouldn't be surrounded by all my children and Grandchildren who have moved far away.  I would probably just find all sorts of new things to STUFF every corner with.  That's just who I am.  Comfy, Cozy, and Loving Life.

Sorry....Cells Have Memories and They Took Over!

So I know I got a little beyond "Nasty," Low Life,  Contemptible, degrading, disgraceful, disreputable, loathsome, reprehensible....retched, vile, shameful....no good, slimy, worthless and more when writing the last blog a few days ago.
I was angry and disgusted.  But what I said was true. I simply should have used a much different analogy regarding how our brains feel when misused. 
Please forgive. I should be ashamed. (But I am not) 
I must have a few low life's in the background of my family whose cells took over inside my mind and ran down my fingers to the keyboard and pushed all the keys necessary to take my class and shove it down the drain replacing it with muck from my kin who used to work and travel with the circus.  Sure wasn't me! I have proof~  The guy in the Leotard was the circus man my Grandmother married.  Torphy was his name.  My mother is on the far right. "Babe." 

• Le me also make it very clear there is another side to my family.  The one with class.  Maybe that is why I vacillate from one side to the other but not too often.  

 

This is my other side:

Put up with me....it's worth it most of the time.

I Call Bullshit! My Brain Needs Some Tender Loving Care!

A weak Muscle is like a limp dick.  Maybe I should have typed, "A weak muscle is like a LIMP DICK!"  Not sure even the emphasis / drama would help.  A limp dick is a limp dick.  Have you ever tried to get a limp dick up and running?   It just lays there limping like a paralyzed leg.  It sways from one side to another. It never stands up. It is just that....an "IT!"  That is not what "IT" was created to do. Be limp that is.  Maybe God or Mrs. God finally said.... "I Call Bullshit!"  Enough is enough.  You limp dick did your duty and now your done.  Obviously. Evidently. Ostensibly, and undoubtedly!

 Well my slow to get to point is:  Sometimes our minds are like a Limp Dick! The brain waves sway from one side to another.  The brain waves fight standing up for the  person they belong to.  You become an "IT." No mind of your own. No fight left. You just lay down and die like a Limp Dick. Like you "gave life" (is that a pun) and it didn't work out so well go lets go lay down and die.

Sometimes a little blue pill will help it get up for a minute or two or four hours over the top. No moderation. Sometimes a  little white pill can help the brain do a bit better for a bit of a while.  Chemically driven of course. So what the heck is my point?

It is:  Do not allow anyone to speak to you or treat your mind, body, or spirit, badly for very long. If you do your mind will become a limp dick. Your life will become a limp dick. Your spirit will sink into limpdickism. Your tears will fall unheard as your friends will see  you as their limp dick friend. No help will help.  No pill for stupid.  A limp dick is a waste of time and might I add energy. Depending on how it is attached to the brain of course.  A simple analogy.

I looked up Limp Dick:  Got this:

1. Make him do more Cardio exercises. He needs only 30 minutes a day. THIS IS WHAT WE SHOULD DO FOR OUR BRAINS ALSO.  I TOLD YOU THEY ARE SAME SAME.

2. Cook for him.  OH SWEET JESUS. COOK FOR HIM AFTER YOU WORK ALL DAY 

3. Have more FOREPLAY with him.  OH DEAR SWEET MOTHER MARY OF GOD WHO GOT INSEMINATED SPIRITUALLY.  LETS TRY SOME ORAL BRAIN FOREPLAY LIKE KINDNESS AND GIVING!!!!!!!  CARING!!.  THAT MAKES MY BRAIN STAND UP AT ATTENTION.

4. Purchase him a vacuum penis pump. OKAY WE AREN'T GOING THERE.. I LISTEN TO POSITIVE TAPES. 

5. Try using a Cock ring. SAME AS WRAPPING YOURSELF AROUND MY BRAIN WITH LOVE. SIMPLE. SO SIMPLE. BE NICE. WHO MESSED WITH YOUR CONFIDENCE OR WHO DIDN'T EVER TEACH YOU TO BE NICE. LOOK IT UP. GOOGLE IT. 

I GOT SOME OF THIS FROM: Until next time… it’s Dr. Drai.)  BUT I DO NOT NEED  A DOCTOR DRAI TO TELL ME WHAT MY SWEET PRECIOUS BRAIN NEEDS. IT NEEDS LOVE. KINDNESS. HUMOR....PURE AND SIMPLE ON A DAILY OR AT THE LEAST EVERY OTHER DAY BASIS.  

THAT IS WHY I AM CALLING BULLSHIT.  SIMPLY MEANT SOME CHANGES ARE IN ORDER! IF WE DON'T MAKE THEM NO ONE WILL.  IT'S OUR SPIRIT, SOUL, AND BODY WE ARE IN CHARGE OF.  AND DANGED IF I WILL EVER BE RELATED TO A LIMP DICK.